


You know I’m not going anywhere

by TeaHouseMoon



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Elio e Oliver, Fix It Fic, M/M, Oliver calls, Reunion, but he’s not getting married, i need them to be happy, it’s Christmas eve, they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13132611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaHouseMoon/pseuds/TeaHouseMoon
Summary: A shrill ring from the phone pulled him out of his musings. He bit his lip, and jumped up.“I’ll get it!,” he called to his parents. Just for something to do, while he decided how to relieve his boredom.————————————-A fix it where Oliver doesn’t call to say he’s getting married; he calls to say that he’s back.





	1. Chapter 1

Elio took off his winter jacket and hung it by the door, waltzing into the living room to the sound of the music from the headphones covering his ears.  
He was still buzzing from the fun he’d had with his friends alle _Gaverine_ ; and the snow always put him in a good mood.

His parents were in the library, chatting lively about something, but Elio wasn’t really interested.  
He sat on the sofa, taking a breath, trying to think of what to do next to fill his time.

The holidays could be so slow and lazy most of the times, especially when he didn’t have any homework to do.  
He didn’t feel like playing, neither the guitar nor the piano. He didn’t feel like eating - although he might go and see what Mafalda was cooking in the kitchen, just for the pleasure of stealing something and Mafalda telling him off and then giving him more food and kisses on the cheek. 

He didn’t feel like writing. He’d hidden his diary under the chest of drawers in his room after the summer; he wasn’t going to use it anymore, now that he was older, he’d decided.

A shrill ring from the phone pulled him out of his musings. He bit his lip, and jumped up. “I’ll get it!,” he called to his parents. Just for something to do, while he decided how to relieve his boredom.

“Pronto?”, he said into the receiver.

“Elio?”

Oliver.

What? How...? Why.

“Hi.” Elio, somehow, found the breath in his lungs to say.

Oliver. Oliver. The love of his summer. The man he’d fallen for. _Oliver_.  
He hadn’t heard from him since he’d gone back to America.

“Elio. How are you?”

Oliver’s voice sounded thin and echo-y, and Elio thought that was right, it was as it should be, because Oliver was speaking to him all the way from a time past; from their summer together; from the sun-filled fields they’d ridden their bikes in, where he must have got stuck in, Elio told himself, and unable to leave.  
Or maybe from the river bank where they’d kissed, that very first time.

“I’m fine. I’m good.”

Elio’s heart was beating fast; but now a kind of elation was cursing through his whole body. His face wanted to split into a smile, and it hurt to try and stop it; his cheeks were flushed, and he hoped Mafalda wouldn’t see him.

“I miss you,” he breathed.

He did. He did, he did, he did. He missed Oliver so fucking much.

“I miss you too. Very much.”

Oliver’s voice was still tinny, but if Elio closed his eyes now, it felt like a caress against his face. If he closed his eyes he could feel Oliver’s large hands, stroking his skin, touching his naked body, all over.

Elio felt he was losing his mind. Why did Oliver have to call? Elio missed him so painfully, now that he’d heard his voice. His body wanted to be pressed against Oliver.  
Elio wanted to cry, now.

“Listen, I’ve got some news,” Oliver said, so unaware. Elio closed his eyes; wasn’t even sure he was listening. _Your voice is all I need, Oliver_.

“I was wondering if maybe...” and here Oliver’s voice trailed. “Maybe you wanted to come to Clusone. To meet me.”

What.

“Clusone? Oliver - what,” Elio heard himself babble. His heart beat so fast he thought he would pass out.

“I’m, I’m here. At the station. I thought - but I can get a taxi, or...”

“Don’t joke with me.”

Elio was surprised at his own voice - the shock making it sound broken, like he was crying - but he wasn’t, _he wasn’t_.  
He frowned, and set his jaw. So ready to be furious, if Oliver really was just joking.

“I’m not.” Oliver’s voice tried again. “Elio. I’m not. I’m... I’m here.” Elio heard Oliver take a deep breath. “I wanted to come back. I couldn’t...I was so unhappy. I needed to see you again.”

Another breath.

“Please say I can.”

The pain in Oliver’s voice made Elio’s chest hurt. He took a breath, too. Made himself come out of this weird trance he’d fallen into.  
It must be true. It must be true. _Even if it doesn’t seem possible, Oliver is here_.

“I’ll, I’ll ask my dad. We’ll come get you. You just - you just wait there.”

At the other end of the line, Oliver giggled, tenderly.

“You know I’m not going anywhere.”

Elio closed his eyes, feeling a fresh wave of tears wet his cheeks. His heart was still doing somersaults, and he knew it wasn’t going to stop until he’d actually, really seen Oliver in the flesh.

“See you soon.”

 

 

The station was deserted on the night of Christmas Eve.

Smoking a cigarette outside, in the light of a pale moon, Samuel waited.  
Elio had run inside, anxious; and now, he and Oliver were the only two souls on that platform.

Tightly hugged together, first; then melting into a kiss that went on even longer than their embrace had.  
Elio couldn’t stop kissing Oliver, couldn’t stop holding onto him for dear life - and that’s what it really was. His life; something that he’d felt so empty of, something that Oliver had taken away with him him the day he left.  
Until today.

“Do you believe me now?” Oliver asked, a shy smile on his face. His eyes were wet too. “Do you believe that I’m back?”

The moon made his beloved face seem even more ethereal to Elio - and yet so real.

And Elio nodded.

“I do. I do. Oh god, I do.”

The moon shone on; and they continued to embrace. Until they felt like it was real, and not a dream, not just in their imagination. Until they realised that they were really, truly, back together. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early morning reunion sex.

Oliver stared at Elio, sleeping next to him.

It was 4 in the morning on Christmas Day. Oliver knew it was early; but he couldn’t help it. Hair dishevelled, curls everywhere; his long eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks, dark and thick; his skin, pale and young. Elio was beautiful, and looked even more stunning now that Oliver hadn’t seen him for so long.

Slowly, Oliver traced Elio’s lips with his index finger. Reverently. His top lip first; the bow shaped bottom lip, after.

Elio stirred almost imperceptibly, and smiled.

“Mmmm. Do you want sex?”, he asked, voice rough with sleep, and mouth stretching into an impish smirk.

“Do I want sex?” Oliver said, pretending to be affronted. He put his hand away. “You were the one who wouldn’t stop clinging to me last night.”

Elio chuckled; then stirred lazily. Oliver let him stretch in his arms.

“Mmm. But you said we were both tired.”

He was smiling, with his eyes closed. And as always, with every endearing quirk of Elio’s, Oliver smiled back in amusement; feeling his heart swell.

Elio scooted back against him until he was properly enveloped in Oliver’s arms, both under the thick winter covers, a cocoon of warmth around them - and they knew they were about to get even warmer.

Oliver chuckled quietly again, and it sounded like a purr.   
He nudged Elio’s chin around until he was able to reach his lips and kiss him, and they kissed for a while, just lazy at first, until the heat grew, simmering and more demanding as the minutes went on.   
They both were getting hard, and Oliver pushed himself gently against Elio’s backside, receiving a moan in return.

There were so many things that Oliver wanted to say. He wanted to tease, and joke some more, and say something silly and ridiculous just to make Elio laugh - but he did none of it. Suddenly there was no more time. They had gone so long without each other; three months, three entire months without seeing Elio, without talking and without having him by his side, in his bed every night.

Oliver moaned, pain and arousal both mingling in a strange combination. His hand slid down on Elio’s throat, fingers pressing on to the delicate, warm skin, and Elio was docile, soft like clay. Oliver kissed under his jaw, then bit, and Elio just shivered and exposed more skin.

Still kissing him - behind his ear; the side of his throat; his clavicle, his shoulder - Oliver hunched Elio’s shirt up on his torso, and pushed his shorts down until Elio was able to kick them under the covers.   
He felt him tremble, but Elio stayed still in his arms, waiting for him.

Oliver wished he could see him, the whole of him, the whole of his naked body, but he was reluctant to break that bubble of warmth and tenderness they had created, and so he let his hand trail down to Elio’s backside slowly, blind aside from the memory of Elio’s body that he kept, always, etched in his mind since that summer. He waited, as Elio reached out on the nightstand for the lube, the both of them in tune with each other without the need to speak. It was a little cold against his heated skin as Oliver’s fingers explored, stroked and prepared - and Oliver comforted Elio with kisses on his cheek, in his hair, which was curly and thick like the fur of a baby-goat.

“Oliver,” Elio called. It was already intense, and they hadn’t even properly started.

“Want to come like this?” Oliver’s voice was warm like the flames that crackled in the fireplace. Like the hot rum drink Mafalda always made on Christmas Day.

“No,” Elio said. Brows furrowed, eyes closed, in concentration. “No. I want you.”

Oliver had to close his own eyes at that, and swallow, because his heart felt like it wanted to burst out of his chest.   
Gently, so gently, he slid his large hand around on to Elio’s abdomen to push him back against himself. And a moment later, he was guiding his body into Elio’s. Slow and sure. With Elio moaning, quietly first, then crying out louder, until Oliver kissed him and breathed with him to calm him down.

Elio adjusted quickly and pushed back himself, and god - Oliver thought he was going to die. He felt like someone had punched all the air out of his lungs.   
He kept Elio against himself, braced against his thrusts, and god, god, Oliver wanted; he wanted this to never end. He wanted this to end now and to look into Elio’s eyes as he came; he wanted he and Elio to be one thing and one thing only, forever.   
He wanted to kiss him lazily for a whole hour, a whole day.

He gripped Elio harder, and the boy cried out again. Oliver slowed them down, earning a growl of protest from him.

“Please, please Oliver, I want...”

“Shhh. It’s ok. We have time. I want us to have time.”

He wanted to make love to Elio for hours. Until they were both exhausted, until they were both spent and sweaty and pulled apart, broken into pieces like the ice that covered the lake outside, in the garden.

They kissed again, slow, like Oliver wanted; until Elio moaned again. He disentangled himself from Oliver and pushed him on his back - and finally, their bubble was broken.

Elio climbed on top, straddling his hips.

His spirited boy.   
Oliver loved him.

“Oh, fuck,” Elio swore, and Oliver laughed. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, you feel so good.”

Oliver gripped Elio’s hips and guided his movements, that slide, up and down, slow then fast, faster, only interrupted by kisses and cries, or when they lost their rhythm and had to start back up again.

Oliver’s grip grew stronger, pulling the boy down and pushing himself into him as far as he could go, “I want this to last”, he growled against Elio’s ear. “You’re making me crazy,” Elio growled back, trying to find that heat again, trying to rub Oliver inside himself.

So they had to compromise. And in the end, Oliver found his pleasure in watching, watching Elio arch over him and take his pleasure back from Oliver’s body, for himself.   
They kissed when they came; Elio was exhausted and slumped on Oliver’s lap, more than ready for another round of sleep.

“It’s still early,” Oliver murmured into his ear, when they found the strength to leave each other’s bodies and lay back down on the well-used bed.

“I want to sleep in late with you,” Elio murmured in return, and he was already closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And please do leave me a comment if you liked this chapter. X

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! I hope this short fic helped soothe the post-movie/post-book sadness a little - I really wanted to imagine Oliver calling to say he was back on Christmas Eve. 
> 
> So this is my gift to you! 
> 
> Please leave me a comment if you want and have time - it would make me happy. 
> 
> And if you have any prompt for Elio e Oliver, please feel free to dm me on Twitter - @hingit83. I’m always looking for ideas and new ways to tell this story! 
> 
> Thank you!! X


End file.
